As in a Really Bad Dream
by Shylah
Summary: Spike runs into the wrong demon, and wakes up to find that he's shrunk to 6 inches tall...and has wings.
1. Chapter 1

Title: As in a (Really Bad) Dream

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Fairy Spike, Language, Violence, H/C

Pairings: None. But feel free to see implication until your head spins.

Disclaimer: They're Joss's, not mine. No money made.

Summary: Spike runs into the wrong demon, and wakes up to find that he's shrunk to 6 inches tall...and has wings.

Author's Note: Title comes from a children's poem about fairies called "Fairyland,"from a book entitled _Enchanted Tulips and Other Verses for Children _by A., R., and M. Keary. The line it is used in is as follows:

_Go hand in hand through flower-lit woods  
Where living trees embrace--  
And suddenly, as in a dream,  
Behold a fairy's face!_

* * *

Part 1 

Spike crouched low behind a dumpster in an alley, his sights on a short, purple demon sprouting a horn from its forehead and fussing with something in the corner. A Blogsh'kul. They tended to be harmless for the most part, but he had caught this one running off with puppies more than one night the past couple of weeks. Puppies that it stole from the human residents, that it probably took to consume in the dark of night. And hell if Spike's soul didn't nag him about it for days.

He used to be able to gamble kittens without so much as a second thought to their wellbeing. Seemed that wasn't the case now. He could put it down to the thought that the Blogsh'kul could move onto larger prey, like small children. But then he'd be lying to himself.

Oh well. At least the soul hadn't dampened his ability to do that, so much.

Deciding to go for the gentler approach for his first try, Spike straightened out his legs and stepped out from behind the dumpster, making sure his footsteps were loud enough to be heard by the creature he had been stalking all night.

The Blogsh'kul whirled around, luminous bug-like eyes staring at him in the darkness as it emitted little burbling, hissing noises. It held a ceramic white cup between its hands, clutched possessively to its chest. Light glinted off the tip of its horn, which he now realized was jeweled.

Right. Probably didn't want that particular part of the demon's anatomy coming in contact with him.

Spike waved in mock cheeriness at the demon. "Hey, Purple." he greeted. "Got a minute?"

The gurgling got louder after he spoke, the Blogsh'kul shifting and folding over, either trying to protect his little cup or aiming the horn at Spike. Or both. But the fact that the horn was now in perfect position to stab into his more sensitive parts was enough to convince Spike to get on the defensive. At least inwardly.

"Yeah, see," he continued, "I've gotta talk to you 'bout this whole puppy-stealin' gig you've had goin'."

The demon charged.

Spike leapt out of the way easily, turning so his back was to the alley wall. "Oh, thank God," he said. "Thought I was actually gonna have to _talk_ my way through this one."

Side-stepping the demon's second charge, Spike grabbed the thing by the scruff of the neck and tossed it against the wall like a rag doll. The cup it had been holding in its hands fell to the ground and shattered just before the Blogsh'kul's body came flopping down on top of the shards.

Oh, yeah. This was going to be like swatting a fly.

He watched as the demon groaned and pulled itself back to its feet, glaring, shaking with rage.

The vampire smirked as he stepped towards the beaten demon. "Don't worry, Shorty. This'll be over right quick."

The Blogsh'kul's eyes suddenly swirled with red, and the jeweled part of the horn began to glow. "Indeed." it growled.

Spike only had time to have his eyes widen in surprise before the world erupted in a painful flash of red, followed by black as he lost consciousness.

* * *

Spike blearily opened his eyes from his position flat on his back. And was immediately struck by dizzying confusion as he realized he was under a very large, very heavy fabric thing. _...the bloody hell...? _Still too groggy to focus completely, Spike tried to throw the blanket off of him, only to be surprised and irritated when it didn't work. What he did get from the movement was the discovery that he was completely starkers. _No clothes. Great. _

He was laying on something, kind of uncomfortably, but whenever he shifted to try and get off of it, it pulled at his skin. Something must have been glued on him.

Feeling increasingly worried and pissed, and wondering if this was all just some stupid joke being played on him by Angel -- and the poof had better be ready for some _extremely _violent retribution if that was the case, -- Spike squirmed and tried again to get the fabric off once more.

A blast of cold air greeted his struggles, and he twisted his head in the direction it had come from to see that there was a large hole that he could definitely fit through. Turning himself over onto his stomach, Spike quickly made his way towards and through the hole, ignoring the cold wind that whipped about his nude body.

And felt something much colder filter through his innards.

It hadn't been a blanket he had gotten stuck under -- _it was his bloody shirt and duster. _They were there, and they were unbelievably huge, lying before him like some eighth wonder of the world, the kind of thing that idiot humans put up as attractions to draw in the even more idiotic tourists.

Quickly turning, taking stock of his surroundings as much as he could, Spike felt his eyes widen in fear.

Everything else had grown to mammoth proportions as well. The buildings, the dumpster...hell, even a discarded burger wrapper. It was bigger than him. They all were.

"This is not happening, this is not --"

A loud crash behind him made Spike take up a defensive position, immediately in game face as he turned towards the source.

It was a cat.

A scruffy tabby, which might as well have been a monstrous bigger-than-life lion, was sniffing through the debris for a snack. It occurred to Spike not a second later that he just might fit the bill. Frantically, the vampire searched for a place he could hide before Fluffy decided to make a meal of him.

Luckily, the cat only crept down to the alley exit, peeked around the corner, and then trotted off. It hadn't noticed him once.

Spike breathed a sigh of relief as it went. He had been seriously contemplating darting under the dumpster, no matter what unseemly things were under there.

Now that his survival instinct was quelled, Spike tried to figure out what was happening to him. Well, okay, he knew what was happening to him -- somehow he had been turned into a leprechaun look-alike. Without the funny clothes or pot of gold. Why and how it had happened, those were the better questions.

The answer to at least one of them came to him in an instant. "That fucking Blogsh'kul!" he growled, slapping a hand to his forehead. The purple demon must have been skilled in magic, and done some mojo on Spike after he crashed its little tea party. He could still feel a slight tingling sensation running through him.

Magic wasn't Spike's favorite thing in the world, for obvious reasons. Red had tried to convince him of the good of it once. They'd had a list going at one point, putting the pros and cons on paper. Willow had listed as many good things as she could, while he listed the bad, and tried not to smirk or roll his eyes when the witch found herself listing most of the bad as well. _Safe to say this counts as another tally on my side, Red, _he thought as he let out a giant shudder in an attempt to relieve his tension.

As the muscles in his back quivered with his actions, he caught something move out of the corner of his eye. Brow furrowing, belatedly remembering that there was something stuck on his back, Spike craned his neck to see what it was.

His mouth opened in surprise and horror as he found himself staring down at a pair of clear, sparkling wings jutting from his shoulder blades. And no glue to be seen.

Tentatively, he flexed his back again, and watched the wings stretch out and quiver. He could _feel _them, knew they were a part of him. His to control. He opened and closed them a few more times, disbelieving.

"Oh, balls." he groaned, raising his head heavenward. "I'm a fucking fairy."


	2. Chapter 2

Title: As in a (Really Bad) Dream

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Fairy!Spike (still naked), Language, Violence, H/C

Pairings: None. But feel free to see implication until your head spins.

Disclaimer: They're Joss's, not mine. No money made.

Summary: Spike runs into the wrong demon, and wakes up to find that he's shrunk to 6 inches tall...and has wings.

Author's Note: Another short post. Nothing really happens in this part, but I promise Spike'll get to Wolfram and Hart in the next one!

* * *

Part 2

Giving into his growing hysteria, Spike felt himself give a crazed giggle before he dropped into a crouch on the concrete, burying his face in his hands. He laughed again, shaking his head. Oh, this was bloody hilarious. A fairy. He'd been turned into a fairy.

But what the hell did that mean?

Was the condition permanent? Was he still really a vampire? His vamp face worked all right. Did that mean he would still burn up if caught in sunlight?

Shit.

Spike looked upwards again, trying to detect the position of the moon in the night sky. He had to step several feet -- well, several of _his _feet -- to the side before he caught sight of it. Still high in the sky. Higher, it looked, than the last time he was awake. And it had been making its way back down at that time. Had he been out all night and day?

Glancing at the monstrosity that was his clothes, he knew that as small as he was now, they would have provided ample cover from the sun. Approaching the garments -- bugger, even his boots were huge -- Spike grabbed onto them and attempted to pull. They barely budged.

Okay, nothing he could do there. Vampire strength was apparently useless when wielded by a downsized demon.

He forced himself to take several deep, shuddering breaths until the edge was taken off his fear. He had time, and it probably wouldn't be too hard for someone of his stature to find reasonable cover. He could get back to Wolfram and Hart and then worry and agonize over his condition all he wanted, and hopefully get back to the alley to collect his clothes.

"All right, wings," he said, glancing over his shoulder at them. "You'd better get me up in the air, 'cause I sure as hell am not going to walk the whole sodding way."

Spike tested the wings out again, flexing them slowly.

He had no idea how this was supposed to work.

Turning to face forward again, Spike began beating his wings in what he hoped was the appropriate way to get off the ground. And then he gradually began to increase the speed with which he did it. It felt bloody weird, but he kept on flapping the things faster and faster until he felt them begin to pull him up.

Looking down at his feet, which were now entirely off the ground, he felt a little rush. Sure, he'd had dreams where he could fly, and had taken or been forced into more than a few hasty high exits from various buildings, but to be able to control it and for it to be real was another matter entirely. Feeling a bit of his confidence returning, he attempted some horizontal flying.

Unfortunately, his wings propelled him just a little too fast, and he crashed right into the dumpster, dropping like a fly.

Shaking his head to try and clear it of the residual fog from the impact, Spike winced as he clambered up from his ungraceful landing on top of the empty burger wrapper.

At least he still had a vampire's capability to take a beating without too much hurt. Still, he was probably going to have a few bruises from that.

Sighing, he worked his wings until he was gently lifted into the air again. A second tentative attempt at horizontal flight had his stomach flipping from the quickness with which the wings carried him. He tried another short burst. And another, the whole flying thing bothering him more than he'd like to admit.

Too much focus on moving forward had him forgetting to keep his wings beating to keep him in the air at the same time, and he fell onto the concrete.

This was fucking ridiculous.

Not a happy vampire fairy in any way, shape or form, Spike pushed himself back up and folded his wings with a muttered curse. "I guess I _am_ walking." he grumbled.

At that moment, voices filtered into the alley. Wary, Spike scurried over and pushed himself against the wall behind the dumpster as two men stepped into the alley moments later. They were chatting and laughing about some chit they'd met earlier that night. Their shoes scraped against the concrete as they came closer, but Spike didn't dare to try and peek around to see them. He really didn't need noticing.

It was a moment later that he noticed the footsteps had stopped.

"Shit." one of them breathed. "Not this again."

_Oh, bugger, _Spike thought. His clothes!

"I tell ya, man, there's some funky shit goin' on in this city." The second one sounded extremely agitated.

"At least there's no blood, this time."

"I don't care. I ain't touchin' 'em. Let's hurry up and get out of here before we miss the bus."

The two blokes began walking, quickly exiting the alley. Spike braced his hands against the wall, letting his head lean back against the cold surface as he closed his eyes in relief. He really hadn't fancied the thought of having to track his beloved duster down.

Two idiots knew the dangers of being out at night, and they still walked in the dark and dank, alone? They could get themselves eaten, for all he cared. People like that just made his job unnecessarily harder. They probably came down this same way _every_ time they had to...

Spike's eyes popped open. A second later he was bolting around the corner after the two humans.

The bus! If he could sneak onto the right one, it'd get him close enough to the law firm so he wouldn't have to make the entire journey on foot and then hide when the sun eventually came out.

Spike kept himself blended in with the shadows as he hurried along behind the men approaching the nearby bus stop, careful to ensure that he was kept hidden from the lights of passing cars.

The men sat themselves down on the bus stop bench, silent now after the shock from the alley. Spike waited behind them, wishing that he'd had the foresight to check the bus routes. Or keep a cell phone. Sure, it'd have to get replaced at least once a week, but at least he'd have instant access to help if he needed any.

Plus, it'd be fun to direct the charges to Angel. Thin his wallet a bit. That always made Spike feel better.

His gleeful contemplation of all the bothersome things he could do to Angel with a cell phone was put to an end as the bus came driving up. The destination written on it told him that it wouldn't get him to Wolfram and Hart, but it could get him part of the way there. And then he could transfer buses.

The first of the men got onto the bus and paid his fare. Taking a deep breath, Spike darted across the sidewalk as fast as he could and dived under the bus. He pulled himself up onto one of the pipes, wrapping his arms and legs around it and trying to ignore the discomfort of lying prone across a piece of hard metal without the benefit of protective covering. Or any covering.

The bus hissed as it rose, and then groaned as it started off again.

Spike rode out the rumbling of the pipe, glancing around. It was dark and dirty under the bus, and he couldn't see anything outside. Thankfully, the offices of Wolfram and Hart had always had some kind of pull that Spike as an "employee" could sense if he concentrated hard enough.

Squeezing his arms and legs tighter around the pipe, his wings laying limply across his back, Spike huddled against the cold hard metal as he settled in to wait.

* * *

Note: This would be a good time to mention I know nothing about the mechanics of buses and apologize if this is an impossible situation. 


	3. Chapter 3

Title: As in a (Really Bad) Dream

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Fairy!Spike (still naked), Language, Violence, H/C

Pairings: None. But feel free to see implication until your head spins.

Disclaimer: They're Joss's, not mine. No money made.

Summary: Spike runs into the wrong demon, and wakes up to find that he's shrunk to 6 inches tall...and has wings.

* * *

Part 3 

Spike crouched behind the cover of leaves from a planted bush, out of breath from his little sprint from the bus stop towards his destination, trying to avoid drawing any eyes towards him. There was a reason he never took the bus. Well, obviously riding _in _the bus was probably more comfortable than hanging under it, but still...

He sighed. Well, he was here, now. So who could he go to? Angel was definitely out of the question. Spike's pride could only take so many a blow in one night. Illyria wouldn't be a good choice, either. She wouldn't know or care about the first thing needed to turn him back.

That left Gunn, Wesley, and Lorne.

The green demon would have been his first choice, being the most nonjudgmental of the bunch. But Greenie was out -- something about trying to keep one of his clients from deciding to go out and commit suicide while simultaneously blowing up her husband's house. Likely Lorne couldn't do much else besides be nonjudgmental, anyway.

Gunn, as much as he preferred the man to his final choice, probably wouldn't be much help, either. Spike doubted there were any laws that had to do with his transformation or the way to turn him back.

That left Wesley. Good bet it would take magic to reverse magic. Blogsh'kul's weren't particularly known for their abilities to cast spells. Spike knew that this whole thing had to have something to do with the jeweled end to the creature's horn.

Jewelry always had a way of making his life miserable.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, flexing his wings unconsciously. Right. Okay. All he had to do now was just get inside the building,

Wolfram and Hart loomed before Spike like some titan monolith, the tinted windows gleaming with the reflection of the city lights. Hell, the place looked big enough while he was at normal size. Now _people_ were like buildings.

And here he was, completely naked, less than a foot tall, with wings he couldn't sodding well use, and he expected to just what -- skip on right through the front door without being noticed? He was lucky enough to have made it this far.

He had no idea how he was supposed to do this.

There was no way he was taking the parking lot entrance. That led directly to Angel's office, and it was a good bet the ponce would be working in there at the moment. Spike wasn't about to take the chance that the older vampire was in a meeting. The elevator doors opening would rouse Angel's suspicions, and Spike really didn't want to be found by his grandsire like this just yet. Or _ever_, if he could help it.

"_God,_" he growled, his body coiled and tensed in frustration. There was nothing to be done about it -- he had to get in the old fashioned way. The firm was still open, and there were no people or demons coming in or out of the front doors, but Spike doubted he could pry them open with his measly strength. He'd have to wait for someone to go through the doors, and try to run himself in before the doors closed.

Setting himself with determination, not allowing himself to think about how buggered he was going to be if things screwed up after he was inside, Spike quickly maneuvered himself down the rest of the walkway towards the doors. He hid in the shadows, and settled in a waiting crouch, clutching his arms about his bare chest.

He _really_ wanted some clothes.

After several minutes of waiting, someone -- probably one of the mindless drone employees -- opened the door and a pair of polished, black shoes with grey dress pants stepped into his line of sight. The door hesitated after the man released it, as if unsure it should close or not. But then it slowly began to swerve back into its place, and Spike bolted for the opening, throwing himself through before it could shut on him.

He got himself to his feet immediately, squinting under the sudden bright lights of the firm as he quickly gazed about. Turned out luck did happen to be on his side in this particular instance, he realized, seeing that the main room was pretty much empty. Everyone was tucked away in their offices or had already gone home. Harmony was at the front desk, as always, but was too engrossed in one of her women's magazines to notice the vampire fairy that had just scuttled into the building.

Not wanting to wait for his luck to change, Spike headed towards Wesley's office, hoping that Watcher-boy hadn't decided to step out early for the night or gone on one of his "hands on" gigs.

The door was slightly ajar when he got there, just a sliver, but he managed to force it open enough that he could slip through, and pushed the door closed behind him after he was safely inside.

Wesley was sitting at his desk, looking through that huge book he carried around that seemed to know everything. At the sound of the door clicking as it closed, he looked up sharply.

The man's eyes narrowed, his face slightly confused as he stared at the door and glanced around his office, not noticing or expecting that what had made the noise was just a bit below his gaze. "Is someone there?"

Spike gave a loud sigh. Well, here it went. "Down here, Watcher."

Wesley's brow creased and he planted his hands on the desk, leaning over to glance down towards the vampire fairy standing a ways from the door. "S...Spike?" he asked, voice soft but tinged with incredulity. "Is that...is that you?"

Resisting the urge to sigh again, Spike folded his arms and glanced at the rug. "Yeah, it's me." He looked back up as Wesley got up out of his chair and stepped around the desk to get a closer look. "Got into a spot of trouble while I was out tonight." At least Wesley wasn't laughing.

"What happened?" Wesley asked, crouching down so he was more at Spike's level.

"A Blogsh'kul. Had some sort of job done on its horn -- fancied it up with a jewel. I was about to put the little bugger in his place when the horn started glowing. Knocked me out, and I woke up like this. Blogsh'kul was gone."

"A fairy." Wesley stated, taking in Spike's wings. "Why on earth would --"

"Well, I don't know, do I?" Spike snapped. "And do you mind?" He glanced down at his still-naked body before looking up at Wesley pointedly.

"Oh! Of course." Wesley straightened himself up and looked around his office. His face took on a look of deep thought as he apparently tried to figure out something that would help Spike with his little problem. The tension in Wesley's face released as he suddenly stepped over to his desk and opened one of the drawers, pulling out a piece of Kleenex before carrying it back over.

Spike grabbed it as soon as it was offered, wrapping it around his waist like a towel. "Look, I don't really know or care about the specifics." he said, his voice taking on a weary tinge. "Just, can you -- is there a way to turn me back?" Spike gazed up at the ex-Watcher hopefully.

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "I think it's safe to say that I've never dealt with this sort of thing before." He went over to his books. "This clearly isn't the same as Angel's puppet predicament. We knew the cause of that. Had access to the origin of the problem. Perhaps if we managed to find the demon that --"

The door to Wesley's office suddenly swung open and Gunn stepped in. Spike was forced to dive out of the way or be crushed.

"HEY!" Spike shouted from his spot on the floor, unable to contain his rage and indignation at the lawyer's lack of attention as he attempted to gather the Kleenex back around himself.

Gunn froze and glanced around. "Wes, you hear something?"

"Down here, you nit!" Spike pushed himself back to his feet, glaring up at Gunn as the man finally looked down at him.

Gunn's eyes widened. "_Holy_ --" The lawyer glanced at Wesley, who shrugged helplessly, and then looked back down. "_Spike?_ "

"Yeah, yeah, take a long look." he muttered. "Not gonna stay like this for long, if I can help it."

"You may not be able to." Wesley said, his tone indicating that he obviously did not want Spike to get his hopes up.

Gunn had his head tilted as he scrutinized Spike closely. "Are those wings?"

Spike gave a sound of exasperation. Might as well just cut to the chase. "I'm a fairy."

"He's a fairy." Wesley repeated.

Gunn shook his head, as if trying to grasp the concept. "Spike's a fairy?"

"Is there a bloody echo in here?" Spike asked, folding his arms angrily. "_Yes,_ I'm a sodding fairy." He turned to Wesley. "Now figure out how to change me back."

"You may have to be patient, Spike." Wesley murmured. "There could be no telling how long it's going to take for us to sort this out."

Standing, Gunn backed a few steps away from Spike and looked at Wesley. "Does Angel know about this?"

"_No,_" Spike said. "And he's never gonna hear about it." He eyed the two men meaningfully, in his usual intimidating manner. Which, might have worked better, if he wasn't the length of a mouse and wearing a handkerchief around his waist. "This stays between us. Got it?"

Gunn raised his hands up in a placatory gesture, but there was a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Hey, all right, I was just asking. You know if you --"

He was cut off when the door to Wesley's office opened again, and Spike dived out of the way and bolted under the ex-Watcher's desk as yet another pair of dress shoes came too close for comfort.

And then he felt his heart sink as Angel's voice sounded in his ears.

"What was that?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** This was entirely written during the lectures in my chem class during the last two weeks. I typed it up, and did a little tweaking, but I am really stretched for time, so I couldn't do much to spruce it up. But I wanted to get _something_ out there, so...

* * *

Part 4 

Gunn was the first to react.

"That?" he asked. "Oh! That."

Spike watched from his hiding place crouched in the shadows under Wesley's desk as a darkly skinned hand came down and grasped the lone handkerchief left discarded in Spike's haste to hide himself. "Sorry, it's my Kleenex."

One of Angel's shiny shoes shifted towards the desk. Spike tensed. "But I could have sworn..."

"Saw something out of the corner of your eye?" Gunn asked in a clearly too-bright tone that made Spike grit his teeth, even as he was grateful for the man's willingness to cover for him. "Must have been the handkerchief. You startled me when you came in and I dropped it." Gunn's large shoes and dark grey pants carefully shifted so the lawyer was standing between the desk and Angel.

"Yes, it...appears Gunn may be coming down with something." Wesley added, as he moved so he was standing close to Gunn. "There seems to have been a breakout of colds going around."

"Right." Gunn said, then blew his nose in an exaggerated manner that did not sound at all wet. "Bit under the weather, boss."

Spike could just imagine the confused frown on Broody Forehead's face as he looked back and forth between the two men. If this entire thing hadn't been quite so humiliating -- even without Angel finding out -- Spike might have felt the urge to snicker at the image.

"Okay..." Spike could hear the tinge of confusion in Angel's voice as he spoke. "Wesley, I just got back from the practical science department. Illyria's demanding your presence." The new pair of dress shoes turned and headed back for the door. "And Gunn? Take care of that cold."

"You got it."

Angel's shoes disappeared and the door closed. Spike crept out from under the desk just as Gunn heaved a sigh of relief.

"I gotta tell ya, man, I'm not sure I like keeping this whole thing from Angel."

Spike straightened and looked up at the man, folding his arms and hunching his shoulders. "The last thing I need is Peaches learnin' about this."

Wesley moved away from the desk to stand near the door. "Angel, in his current state, likely doesn't need any more distractions." He tilted his head at Spike. "I'd say that this...is rather potentially distracting."

"Got that right." Gunn agreed, eyebrows drawing together. "Spike, no offense man, but you really need to cover up."

Spike raised one dark eyebrow, pursed his lips, and glared pointedly at Gunn.

"Uh, Gunn," Wesley hesitantly began, "you've got..."

"What?"

Wesley pointed at the wadded up handkerchief in the other man's hand. Gunn looked to where Wesley was directing and gave a nervous laugh. "Oops."

Wesley went over to his desk and drew out a second piece of Kleenex. Spike yanked it towards himself as soon as it was offered, his expression one of annoyance.

Wesley cleared his throat. "I do agree, however, that we should attempt to find you something more suitable to wear."

"I know the number of a good tailor for demons." Gunn said. "Doesn't discriminate on size, color, or number of external reproductive organs."

Wesley and Spike turned and gave Gunn looks.

The lawyer instantly slipped into an "I-wish-I-hadn't-said-that" expression.

"...Don't ask."

* * *

Spike lay tensely on his back on the oak table, handkerchief still covering him, as an orange demon with long claws and black stripes on his cheeks took out a miniature tape measure. One eye's cat-like pupil was magnified by the eye-glass he wore on his face, and it blinked owlishly at Spike as he carefully slid the tape measure open. Spike watched the demon's claws warily as the tape measure was placed against his arm, wondering how on earth the bloke could be so precise with his measurements while his nails were about half the length of his fingers and shaped like ice picks. 

But the demon never so much as accidentally poked Spike, although he did have to probe a bit to find the junction of hip and leg, because Spike had determinedly refused to take off the Kleenex.

"_All right," the demon had said with a sigh of disappointment, "but don't blame me if the pants come out too loose." _

When the demon had finished with his measurements, he slid his wheeled chair away to the computer on the desk nearby. Spike sat up, glancing at Gunn who was standing off to the side of the room, one hand loosely holding the back pack he'd used to carry Spike and keep him hidden on the way to the tailor. Wesley was back at Wolfram and Hart, having had to go cater to Blue before she decided to take her frustration out on a hapless employee. And, Spike hoped, was now nestled in his office searching for a cure to his problem.

"When can we expect them?" Gunn asked.

"Give me a few hours." the demon said. "I'll take on this project myself." He clicked his long nails against the desk. "Didn't know Wolfram and Hart took fae folk into its employ. Trying him out as a mascot?" Spike blinked in surprise at the question, and then immediately began to bristle savagely. "He's a cute little thing."

Spike curled his lip derisively. "Watch me be bloody cute as I rip out your --"

"Okay!" Gunn interjected, clapping his hands together with a smile. "Actually we hadn't really planned on making him our mascot."

"Just an office pet then, huh?"

Spike got to his feet with a snarl, and Gunn quickly moved in front of him to block his view of the dimwitted demon, turning to give Spike a meaningful look. Spike held his gaze for a long moment, before eventually giving a loud scoff and backing down, lowering his head to stare at the tabletop as if it was to blame for all of his problems.

"He's much better looking than old Rashelk's group." The demon continued, blissfully unaware of just how much Spike wanted to beat his head in. "Their hair's all wild and they're always dirty. He one of 'em captive bred types?"

Gunn was speaking again, and the nervous twinge in his voice was probably only detectable to Spike. "No, actually, he's just special -- and we really need to get going. You still have my office number?"

"Yeah."

"Great."

Gunn lifted the back pack and set in onto the table next to the seething vampire fairy. Spike sniffed and turned his head away, deliberately ignoring the carrier.

"Spike, come on," Gunn said, then bent forward and whispered. "We really don't want to be makin' a scene. Let's just get you back to Wolfram and Hart so we can work on getting this figured out, okay?"

Still pissed off, fluttering his wings in irritation, Spike turned and glanced at the back pack for a few moments before directing one last lethal glare towards the tailor demon and climbing inside, crouching in an attempt to make himself comfortable as Gunn zipped up the pack, blocking out the light.

* * *

"Found anything, yet?" Gunn asked as he walked into Wesley's office. 

"Unfortunately not." Wesley said. "Since we're technically doing this under Angel's nose, I have to make time for work to prevent his suspicion." He glanced up. "Where's Spike?"

The back pack in Gunn's hand began to crinkle as something moved inside. Gunn quickly unzipped it and Spike heaved himself out and onto the rug.

"Oh." Wesley said. He furrowed his brow. "He, uh, still seems to have a distinct lack of clothing."

"Only for a couple more hours." Gunn said. "Guy doesn't really just _have _fairy-sized clothes lying around. I mean, technically," Gunn glanced pointedly at Spike. "Fairies don't wear clothes."

Spike folded his arms tightly across his bare chest. "And I'm sure as hell not going to go around playing flasher to anyone who cares to look."

"_Spike?_"

Gunn, Wesley and Spike all turned in horror to see that Harmony had peaked inside the office without their noticing.

Spike's mouth fell open in shock. "Oh, _bloody _buggering fu --"

"Oh, my God!" the vampire secretary squealed, stepping into the room. "Spike, you're a --"

Gunn suddenly leaped behind Harmony and slammed the door shut. Startled, she glanced at him.

He smiled, and gestured at Spike. "He's a fairy."

* * *

A/N: I know, that's a horrible place to cut it off -- not even really the end to the "chapter," but I wanted to get something up and this seemed like the best place to end it. 


	5. Chapter 5

Title: As in a (Really Bad) Dream

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Fairy!Spike, Language, Violence, H/C

Fandom: Angel: The Series (Sometime after "Time Bomb," but before "The Girl In Question.")

Pairings: None.

Disclaimer: They're Joss's, not mine. No money made.

Summary: Spike runs into the wrong demon, and wakes up to find that he's shrunk to 6 inches tall...and has wings.

Genre: Humor, Angst

Author's Note: Typical really short chapter.

Chapter 5

Wesley stood up from his seat, his expression solemn as he approached the overly excited female vampire. "Harmony, we need you to not tell anyone about this. Especially Angel."

The blonde secretary didn't even acknowledge Wesley, so engrossed was she by Spike's transformation. Harmony crouched down to lean over Spike, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders. Spike raised an eyebrow, not failing to notice how her position and her typical low-cut top offered a more-than-generous view of her cleavage.

"Your wings are so pretty!" she exclaimed with a bright smile, reaching down and giving a distracted Spike's back a quick stroke, nearly toppling him over in the process.

"Hey!" Spike growled, hastily backing away from her with hands scrambling to make sure the kleenex stayed put. "Hands off."

Harmony frowned at his reaction, but brightened not a moment later. "Let me see you fly!" she said excitedly, clapping her hands together.

"Hey, that's right." Gunn said, smiling himself as he looked at Spike. "I guess there is one benefit you get in all this."

"Or not," Spike grumbled under his breath.

"Come on, Blondie Bear -- spread those wings!" Harmony said, gesturing with her arms to mimic the action.

"Perhaps we should leave Spike be for now." Wesley began. "If he feels like showing his flying skills at a later time --"

"Icntsdingfly..."

Spike had muttered out the words in a jumbled mess, hoping that they had heard and he wouldn't be forced to repeat the words. By the looks that Harmony, Wesley, and Gunn were sending him, that was an idea he needed to let go of quickly.

"Wha-huh?" Harmony asked.

Spike made a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a growl. "I. Can't. Sodding. Fly." He glared up at the three, daring them to laugh. "Stupid wings don't work right. Can't control them."

"What, they're like, defective?" Gunn asked.

"Dunno." Spike shrugged. "Tried them after I first woke up -- it's safe to say that that's an experience that doesn't bear repeating."

"Perhaps you just need to practice." Wesley suggested, putting his hands in his pockets. "I would have thought there would be a certain amount of instinct ingrained into you to go along with the transformation. But it's possible flying is part learning process for fairies." Wesley shrugged at the look of irritation Spike sent his way. "I haven't managed to read up on that part just yet."

"Maybe the Blogsh'kul thought leaving out that particular piece to the package would add to all the hoo-hahs." Gunn added.

"Or maybe he just wanted them there to make you look pretty." Harmony chimed in.

"_Look_ you twits," Spike snarled, "I don't care if he did it because bloody _Santa Claus_ told him to -- just get on with finding a way to reverse it!"

Gunn raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "Sure being a ball of sunshine about all of this, Spike."

"Are you kidding?" Harmony asked incredulously. "He's totally cranky."

Gunn ignored Harmony's usual misconception. "Y'know, it wouldn't kill you to show a little gratitude. Or at least make an attempt at being nicer."

Harmony folded her arms with a huff. "I've been telling him that for years -- but does he ever listen? No. Just has to go around being pissy all the time."

Spike gave a growling sigh. "You want me to be happy about this? Fine. I'm ecstatic. Elated. Bloody _bouncing_ with _fucking joy_." A sliver of desperation slid into his voice. "Now will someone_ please_ get a move on with changing me back so I can go tear apart the blighter that did this to me?"

"We'll get on it." Wesley said, glancing at Gunn.

Gunn glanced back, caught Wesley's look and brought his hands up as he began backing away. "Whoa-hey, who's we? That's your area of expertise, man. I've done my part. His clothes will be here in a few hours. Right now, I think I'm calling it a night." Gunn glanced at his watch. "Or morning."

Spike suddenly swore loudly. When the eyes in the room turned to him in surprise, he fluttered his wings anxiously. "Clothes." he explained. "My bloody jacket is still in that alley."

"And which alley would that be?" Wesley asked.

"The one by the bus stop."

He got a set of blank stares in reply.

"…Where I got on the bus."

Continued blank stares.

Spike let out an exasperated sigh, "I don't know exactly, okay? When I'm tracking, I kind of, get focused on the scent, y'know? Don't really pay too much attention to the landmarks. Couldn't even see where the bus was taking me."

"Can you think of anything that would be of help in pinpointing the location of your coat?" Wesley asked, looking increasingly weary but remaining patient.

"Think I remember something about a 7-11 nearby."

Gunn rolled his eyes. "Boy, _that_ narrows it down." As Spike began to tense in rising fury, Gunn continued, "Harmony, you're on coat-finding duty. I'm heading out before anything else interesting comes up. Night."

Spike deflated. "Hell," he muttered, resigning himself to the fact that it was now likely he would never see his beloved garment ever again. Some homeless bloke had probably snagged it by now, anyway.

Harmony apparently had her own protestations to voice, as well. "Hey! That's not even my job!"

"It is now." Gunn called back.

"You can't order me around!" she yelled at his retreating form. "_Angel's_ my boss, not y--"

"Harmony!"

"Harm!"

The blonde vampire turned in a huff towards the two men. "What? Just because he doesn't feel like it means _I_ have to go digging around in icky dark alleys?"

"I'll get someone else on the staff to search in the morning." Wesley said. "But right now we're agreeing on keeping this situation completely under discretion, which means --"

"It means don't scream at the top of your lungs across the building like a bleeding nut." Spike finished. "Could attract unwanted attention. And, actually, _any_ attention is unwanted at the moment, so… just… try not to talk, all right?"

Harmony glared at Spike with a hurt expression. "Fine. I'm leaving. Not like I care about the way your wings get all sparkly when you move them in the light."

Spike felt a surge of embarrassment at that revelation, and, appropriately, his wings fluttered in response to his emotions, giving a clear example of their glittering qualities. Harmony noticed, and for a moment looked nearly ready to cave in and start cooing over Spike again. But she restrained herself at the last moment and stuck up her nose instead, proudly and briskly walking from the room.

Spike and Wesley watched her go, both frowning and deep in thought.

After a few moments, Wesley spoke. "She's going to tell everyone in the entire firm come tomorrow."

"Don't I know it." Spike sighed.


End file.
